


cooking (s)kills

by misura



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Arya gets ready to take on the Freys, with a bit of help from Jaqen. (canon divergent AU)
Relationships: Jaqen H'ghar/Arya Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 190





	cooking (s)kills

Arya looked down at what was, supposedly, enough poison to kill a hall full of people.

Of course, she had only Jaqen's word for that. It didn't _smell_ poisonous. She supposed that it wouldn't be very good poison if people would be able to smell it. Still.

"Keep stirring," Jaqen said. He had a cooking pot of his own, though he seemed to be paying much more attention to hers than to his own.

"I've been stirring for an hour already." Well, not really. It had sure _felt_ like an hour, though.

After the weeks and weeks of sweeping the floors, she'd kind of hoped to be done with the part of her training that involved menial housework.

"A girl should learn to keep better track of time." Jaqen started chopping some vegetables.

Arya tried not to stare. She'd become a lot better with a knife than she'd once been - in fact, she'd thought that she'd become an expert.

Jaqen raised his head. He'd slipped into her cabin days after the ship had departed -

_'I'm not going back,'_ Arya had said, because she hadn't wanted to ask him if he had come to kill her. _'I'm sorry.'_

_'A girl goes to offer many names to the Nameless God. Is this not so?"_ Jaqen had asked, inclining his head. _'A man would witness and, if necessary, offer aid.'_

_'I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I'm going home to my family, or what's left of it. And to make everyone responsible for hurting my family pay.'_

Jaqen had smiled and said, _'Just so,'_ and when the ship had made harbor, he had come with her, and now here they were.

She _had_ needed him, Arya admitted to herself. Her first idea had been to kill them all one by one. _'A girl might choose to be more efficient,'_ Jaqen had said, without a hint of judgment.

_'How?'_ she'd asked, and he had told her.

"A girl wishes to comment on a man's actions?" Jaqen paused.

"I think most people don't cut vegetables that way," she said.

Jaqen shrugged. "A man has no need to hold back when there is only a girl to see."

"You mean you're showing off," Arya said. "For me."

Jaqen half-smiled as he resumed cutting his vegetables. "A girl thinks highly of herself."

"Ha!" Arya said. The liquid in her cooking pot started bubbling.

"Stir," Jaqen told her, not looking up.

Arya told herself that at least cooking was less boring than sweeping floors. Plus, she probably wouldn't need to do it for more than a few hours.

Jaqen added his vegetables to his own cooking pot. "A girl will keep stirring until a man tells her to stop."

Arya swallowed her first reply. "How long is that going to be?"

"It takes as long as it takes, sweet girl," Jaqen said, cleaning the cutting board. Arya wondered what the odds were of someone poisoning themselves by using it again. She assumed they were low - and of course it would be rather impractical to burn everything.

"Does that mean you don't actually know?"

"If a girl wishes to believe a man does not know, that is a girl's right," Jaqen said, inspecting the contents of his own cooking pot. It looked like ordinary soup.

Perhaps he planned on using it to get the guards out of the way. It would be best not to draw too much attention to themselves at first, to slip inside and get to Walder Frey - and then after, Arya could use his face to call all the others, like lambs to the slaughter.

_I will make them pay for what they've done to Robb and Mother and all the others._

"A girl must not allow her face to lead her into making an error," Jaqen said. "A girl may be Arya Stark, but only when it is to her advantage, yes? Not when it is a weakness."

"What happened to it being all right to not pretend as long as it's just us here?"

Jaqen sighed. "A girl deliberately twists a man's meaning."

"A girl thinks maybe she can stop stirring this stuff now," Arya said.

Jaqen walked over to take a look. "A girl may be right. Very well. Let it cool overnight, and we will continue its preparation tomorrow morning."

"Great." Jaqen had gone back to his own cooking pot. Arya joined him. "So what's this stuff?"

"Would a girl like to taste?" Jaqen dipped his spoon and held it in front of her mouth.

Arya took a step back. "Um. No, thanks. That's all right. I'm sure it's great."

"A man is flattered by a girl's confidence," Jaqen said blandly.

"So what does it do?" Arya asked, coming a bit closer. It smelled pretty good. If she were hungry and cold, and someone'd offer her a bowl of this, she probably wouldn't think twice about accepting. (Well. _She_ would, but most people wouldn't.)

"Do? What does any mix of water, herbs and vegetables do?" Jaqen stirred.

Arya was happy to see Jaqen's stirring looked exactly like her own: nothing expert or impressive about it. "I mean, is it going to kill them? Put them to sleep? Make them feel really, really bad? What?"

"If a man has done his job well, a girl may soon find out for herself," Jaqen said. "I believe there are some bowls in that cupboard over there, and perhaps you might get the bread we bought at market as well."

Arya stared at him.

Jaqen's mouth gave away nothing but there a definite grin in his eyes.

"Oh, ha ha," Arya said. "You mean that you made dinner."

Jaqen bowed. "A man made dinner. A girl made poison to kill her enemies. A suitable division of labor, is it not? If a girl wishes it otherwise, she only needs to say so."

Arya very much doubted she possessed any hidden talents as a cook. "How about I'll let you know after dinner?"

"As you wish," Jaqen said. "The bowls and the bread, please?"

(It was an excellent dinner. Arya had expected nothing less.)


End file.
